Page 57 of Blood Caged

The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way her eyes light up when she laughs, even after months of captivity. The subtle curve of her lips when she’s trying not to smile at one of my dry comments. The intoxicating scent of her blood…

I shake my head, forcing those thoughts away. I’m an ancient vampire, for fuck’s sake. I’ve outlived countless human lifetimes. I shouldn’t be this affected by one witch.

And yet, here I am, standing outside her cell like a nervous schoolboy.

I raise my hand to knock, then hesitate. Doubt creeps in. What if she rejects the gift? What if this only serves to remind her of her captivity, of the fact that I’m her jailer? God knows I’ve done that enough in these past months. Months in which I’ve felt as much a prisoner here as she is.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. I knock on the door.

“Yes?” she calls out.

I enter Mia’s cell, the book held casually at my side. Her scent hits me immediately – that intoxicating blend of electricity and nectar. I force myself to breathe evenly, maintaining my composure.

“Good evening, Mia,” I say coolly.

Mia’s eyes widen slightly as she takes me in. She’s curled up on her bed, a blanket draped over her legs. Her hair is slightly messy, as if she’s just woken up.

“Soren,” she says, surprise evident in her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

I nod, acknowledging her statement. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”

She arches an eyebrow, a hint of her usual sarcasm creeping into her voice. “Oh yes, my social calendar is just bursting at the seams these days.”

I feel the corner of my mouth twitch, fighting back a smile. Her wit, even in captivity, is oddly refreshing.

“I brought you something,” I say, holding up the book. “I thought you might appreciate some new reading material.”

Mia’s eyes flick to the book, then back to my face. The wariness in her expression slowly gives way to curiosity. She uncurls from her position, sitting up straighter.

“Sense and Sensibility?” she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“You told me you liked Jane Austen but hadn’t read this yet.”

“I did?” She looks bewildered.

“When I first started taking you to the bay,” I remind her. I move closer, offering her the book. Our fingers brush as she reaches for it, sending a tingle over my skin.

“But that was months ago.” She looks down at the embossed cover. It’s a first edition from my private library. “How on earth did you remember that?”

“I remember everything about you, Mia,” I say impulsively.

This earns me a small, genuine smile – a rarity that sends an unexpected warmth through my chest.

Which is a mistake.

“It’s my job,” I add. “You are my responsibility.”

Something shifts in her expression that could be disappointment, but I’m sure I’m imagining it.

I lean against the wall, crossing my arms as Mia flips through the pages of the book. Her eyes light up with genuine interest, and I find myself oddly pleased by her reaction.

“Have you always enjoyed the classics?” I ask.

Mia looks up, a spark of excitement in her eyes. “Since high school. We often had them as set works. I loved being taken back to a time when people were…gentler. There was an innocence to them, don’t you think?”

I nod. “It was, indeed, a gentler time. Although, they had their share of trouble, too.”

She regards me for a moment. “Oh. Right. You were probably there.”

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